


These Violent Delights

by Hornet394



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate universe - Mafia, Baby Sehun, Discussion of Abortion, Evil Kris, M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornet394/pseuds/Hornet394
Summary: Jongin thought he had nothing to do with that world anymore, and would have been happy with it. Only now Sehun’s gone and Yixing is the only one who could help him. Yixing, the man who was the father of Jongin’ son, the man who had destroyed him nine years ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Exorarepairs :3
> 
> Prompt #: 120  
> Title: These Violent Delights  
> Pairing(s): Yixing/Jongin  
> Rating: R (NC-17)  
> Word count: 10,918  
> Warning(s): Talk of abortion, unwanted pregnancy, violence, mafia, evil Kris  
> Summary: Jongin thought he had nothing to do with that world anymore, and would have been happy with it. Only now Sehun’s gone and Yixing is the only one who could help him. Yixing, the man who was the father of Jongin’ son, the man who had destroyed him nine years ago.  
> Author's note: Thank you to my two betas for all their help given to me ^^ and to the prompter, I hope I did the prompt justice! Last but not least thanks to the mods for everything they’ve done for this ficfest!

“Eat your peas.” Jongin says. Sehun hits his little fists against the table stubbornly. “No.” Sehun demands. “Then you don’t get a bedtime story.” Jongin threatens.  
  
Sehun’s bottom lip quivers and a fat droplet of water oozes out, but Jongin doesn’t budge. He does, however weaken. “Your father didn’t eat his peas, and he’s dead because of that, okay? You don’t want to be dead, right?”  
  
Sehun shakes his head and finally puts his mushed peas in his spoon, but makes his last argument. “Last time you said father died because he didn’t look twice before crossing the road.”  
  
“Same thing,” Jongin says dismissively. Anyways, it’s better for Sehun to think his father is dead. It’s easier for both of them.  
  
Hong Kong at night is extremely noisy. Whoever coined it “Pearl of the Oriental” clearly has never tried living in the district of Mongkok, where ironically the night truly never sleeps. Neon lights glare through the curtains, and there’s a traffic congestion again. Very soon car horns will rip through the air, so Jongin rushes through Three Little Pigs and tucks Sehun in to bed. Hopefully he can fall asleep before the cops arrive.  
  
In the morning Sehun doesn’t have time for breakfast before the coach arrives, so Jongin gives him extra money to buy himself some snacks in school. Sehun nods his head and tucks it away carefully, and Jongin knows it’s going to his emergency fund. Sehun always takes Jongin’s lessons to heart.  
  
But Sehun is also very, very happy here. Jongin left behind all his friends when he left Korea with barely a bump to show, and this was the only place he could go to. He doesn’t have any friends here, either, his only acquaintance being Luhan, the Chinese man that runs the bookstore together with him. The store itself fronts the triad’s network system, while Luhan comes from the local triads.  
  
He had been so desperate, then, and had taken the opening without considering the consequences. Now it seems trivial, the act of leaving.  
  
Fortunately, Sehun is happy here. He’s in a good local school, and Hong Kong kids are nice enough to not ask why Sehun only has one parent, why Sehun is Korean but is studying in Hong Kong of all places, why Sehun always sits closest to the doors and started crying when one of his teachers tried to make him sit at the back of the classroom.  
  
Sehun may not have to know exactly what Jongin used to do, but Jongin still teaches his son well. Sehun takes to Chinese like fish to water, and the local people call him something along the lines of “Saifun”. Sehun says it’s the Cantonese pronunciation of “Shixun”, the translation of Sehun into Mandarin Chinese, or Chinese as Jongin knows it. But here, in Hong Kong, Cantonese is Chinese, and the locals are extremely proud of it. Jongin can relate.  
  
Sehun returns home with a red flush on his face. The last lesson was physical education, and Sehun has always excelled in this subject. The irony, really. But Jongin is proud of Sehun, and even though Sehun looks nothing like him, he knows Sehun is more like him than anyone else.  
  
After a quick snack, Jongin brings Sehun down to the bookstore. Luhan is fast asleep over the counter, and Sehun giggles as Jongin bops Luhan over the head with a nearby book. It’s a slow afternoon; it’s always a slow afternoon. Luhan intends it to be that way.  
  
Sehun is rifling through his backpack in a corner as Jongin tries not to listen to Luhan’s conversation about ketamine; he’s frustrated, Jongin can see, and he’s on the verge of a tantrum. “What are you looking for?” He asks, and Sehun looks up with a hurt look in his eyes.  
  
“I did a drawing today in art,” Sehun says slowly, “I can’t find it now.”  
  
“Well, you can draw it again,” Jongin suggests. Sehun huffs loudly and Jongin hoists him up into his arms. “But it was so good,” Sehun insists stubbornly, “It was of you and me and Lulu. Ms Chan said I did a good job.”  
  
“Of course she did, honey,” Jongin smiles slightly, bopping Sehun on the nose. Then Sehun is wriggling in his arms, asking to be let down to show Jongin his full marks in the english dictation they had yesterday.  
  
Sehun is such a good, smart boy, and sometimes Jongin wonders who he had gotten it from. Certainly not Jongin, Jongin didn’t even go to school. From Yixing, then, but Sehun didn’t even know Yixing existed, and Jongin liked it being that way.  
  
It isn’t like Yixing took advantage of him. They were drunk, yes, but their tension had been simmering ever since Jongin stumbled into the room, Yixing inclined on the chair with a dark look in his eyes.  
  
Even at that point, Jongin knew Yixing would never be satisfied with being caged among the Korean triads.  
  
Jongin was young, then, nine years ago. A mere sixteen year old with too strong of a skillset and too poor a background, preyed on by the tumultuous mob rivalry in Korea.  
  
He never knew what gang he belonged to, never knew who his boss was. CEO Kim of Gangnam Properties? Mr Im of Fortune Cookies Ltd? Most probably someone the world didn’t even know they dabbled in the underground. All Jongin knows is the brief burst of happiness as a child, then the abandoned warehouse he was trained in, and then Zhang Yixing, and now, Sehun.  
  
Yixing was a lion. No, a wolf. You keep a wolf by your side because of his loyalty, but you never forget how deadly he is.  
  
He was their leader, their strike team of five. Yixing, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and then Jongin. Chanyeol and Baekhyun, they always were batshit crazy. Jongin had been so scared, alone from the safety zone that was the wild streets of Seoul.  
  
Kyungsoo was the one that had taken him under his wing, that kept him moving as Yixing, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun rushed forward without looking back. Jongin owes Kyungsoo his life, and will continue to be for the rest of his life.  
  
At days they led their own individual life; Kyungsoo let Jongin move in with him and his ex-boyfriend; Jongin doesn’t ask, Kyungsoo doesn’t tell. The ex-boyfriend gets arrested on weed eventually; Jongin never knew his name either ways.  
  
At nights, Yixing brings them to nightclubs and casinos, sit on the spinny chairs and break the fingers of the lackeys they try to throw at them. It’s not appealing work, but Jongin is good at it, and Yixing always smiles at Jongin when Jongin does a good job. Not the one he gives to the bosses, not the one he gives to the bouncers at the pubs. It’s a gentle, bright smile that reveals two dimples on his cheeks.  
  
Jongin always blushes when Yixing smiles at him, revealing a dimple, and then the smile always turns into a smirk. Jongin doesn’t like the smirk as much as he likes the smile, but any sort of attention from the older man is enough to make him preen.  
  
It wasn’t just that one night, actually. Yixing slammed him against the wall of an alley once, kissing him senseless before Kyungsoo had interrupted angrily, arguing that Jongin was underage. “Does it matter?” Yixing had laughed playfully, and the cocky grin he had given Jongin was enough for him to look to his shoes shyly.  
  
And once Kyungsoo left, leaving him a warning of not to let anyone take advantage of him like that, Jongin had touched his own chapped lips with his fingers, recalling the feeling of Yixing’s plumps ones on top of them, the sensation of Yixing’s tongue swiping into his mouth and taking everything from him.  
  
They weren’t drunk that time, but they were, the next time they were alone. Kyungsoo had been transferred to another group temporarily, and Chanyeol and Baekhyun had gotten ill together with a flu - Yixing had ordered them to the hospital and took Jongin to a bar.  
  
The bar wasn’t one they frequented as a group - it was much more noisy and dark, and the glasses came in terrifying portions. “You’re a man now, Jonginnie,” Yixing had laughed as he pushed glass over glass to the meek Jongin.  
  
Yixing led him to one of the private rooms, where there was even more alcohol waiting. Jongin took one shot of vodka before Yixing was onto him like a wild beast.  
  
Yixing’s grip was hard and relentless, gaze dark and smoldering as he pinned Jongin against the door of the room, hands clawing Jongin’s clothes to tatters as Jongin fought to push Yixing’s jeans off. The music from the main area of the pub vibrated through the walls.  
  
The entry was too abrupt, too dry, barely a few fingers of hasty preparation and Yixing is so very large, but the burn was exquisite and Jongin left red marks down Yixing’s back. They were both too drunk to care.  
  
Alcohol sloshed in Jongin’s mind, intensifying the painful pleasure as Yixing mindlessly rammed into him, thick cock hammering a space inside Jongin just for this man.  
  
“You and your pretty little body,” Yixing rasped into his ear, “Of course you’d take cock so well.”  
  
His head was washed with alcohol and arousal, spinning on its own axis and he could only mewl and nod rapidly. He could feel Yixing’s smirk against his neck, then the older man was gnawing into it, Jongin’s screams laced with pleasure as Yixing left his marks all over the younger boy, animalistic and raw.  
  
Yixing tore away from the abused skin and there was blood coating his lips, glistening under the artificial light. Jongin was trembling against the wall, his legs shaking with exertion and he desperately wanted to collapse, desperately wanted to fall down, but Yixing’s hands were demanding and ruthless.  
  
“Touch yourself,” Yixing hissed in Jongin’s ear, and he blindly reached for his own cock, moving his hand along it rapidly as Yixing’s thrusts turned erratic, and in a sudden movement the older man dragged him away from the cold wall and onto the nearest table, forcing Jongin to raise his legs into the sky and around Yixing’s clothed body as the older man slams into him even harder, until the table is creaking under their combined weight.  
  
Jongin didn’t remember how many times they fucked, how many times he had came. They did it on the table, on the couch, in the en-suite bathroom, perhaps on the table again? All he knew was that as morning broke, he was lying on the ground in his own cum, saliva, and piss, his whole body twitching in the aftershocks of over-stimulation, Yixing’s cum still pouring out of his raw and puffy entrance.  
  
The older man walked out of the bathroom with his hair freshly showered, and at the sight of Jongin he sighed good-naturedly, picking the boy up and carrying him into the bath. That was Yixing at his most gentle, hands slowly wiping Jongin’s frail body.  
  
They did it a few more times, in stolen cars, in decrepit hotel rooms, until Jongin realized he was pregnant. Kyungsoo caught him vomiting in the bathroom, stick in one hand, and he held Jongin as the younger boy cried.  
  
“You should abort it,” Kyungsoo says quietly, “Before they make you.”  
  
Before he can tell Yixing, the man’s already gone. In the middle of the night, and when Kyungsoo and Jongin arrives at the flat Yixing shares with Chanyeol and Baekhyun, it’s completely empty, like the three of them had never lived in there.  
  
The higher-ups are furious at their defection, and they recall Kyungsoo and Jongin back to base, try to put them in a new team. Jongin should run after Yixing, should reunite his baby with his father, but it hurts Jongin that Yixing hadn’t even asked Jongin to leave with him. Yixing hadn’t given him that option, hadn’t thought to give him that option.  
  
Instead, Jongin runs. Kyungsoo patches him in with Luhan, ferries him over to one of Hong Kong’s small islands where Luhan is waiting with his fake ID and keys to the flat above the bookshop.  
  
Jongin doesn’t ask why Luhan is so nice to him; Luhan doesn’t tell.  
  
He hid in Luhan’s flat as his stomach gets bigger and bigger, until one april morning Sehun was born, effectively putting all traces of Yixing into the back of his head. Sehun was his whole world, now and forever.  
  


//

  
  
Jongin is bringing the new shipment of books to the storefront when Jongin first sees him. Jongin doesn’t work at the front much, preferring to leave the socializing to Luhan. Jongin sorts out the online orders and restocks when Luhan sends him a message, so he doesn’t see people that often. He’s just put down a box when he realizes there’s someone else in the room.  
  
He hasn’t been in combat for years, but some reflexes are still here. Almost immediately he’s ducking behind the nearest bookshelf, but the man’s laugh tells Jongin that he’s caught the stranger’s attention.  
  
“The name’s Jongdae,” The man calls out, “You can come out, I’m on Luhan’s side.” Jongin peeks out, and there Jongdae is.  
  
“What’s your name, beautiful?” Jongdae asks, sitting cross-legged on the counter like he owns the place. “You look cute.”  
  
Jongin shies away from Jongdae’s gaze and ducks further into the safety of the bookshelves, but Jongdae is insistent. “Come on, don’t be shy,” The other man purrs, cat like eyes glinting maliciously. Jongin doesn’t think Luhan will appreciate it if he dirties the bookshop with blood.  
  
“Chen, he’s not in this.” Luhan barks from behind him, a small box in hand, “I have what you need here. Go.”  
  
“If you say so,” Jongdae says, taking the box from Luhan’s hands, “I was just curious.”  
  
“Well, don’t be curious.” Luhan snaps, “Now get out.”  
  
Jongdae tosses his head flippantly and sends one last smirk to Jongin. “Bye, pretty thing.”  
  
When he’s gone, Jongin turns to Luhan. “I don’t trust him.”  
  
“Neither do I,” Luhan grounds out from gritted teeth, “He’s changed bosses three times, and he still isn’t dead. But he’s who- he’s who I have to deal with. Not you, ok?”  
  
Luhan knows exactly how much Jongin hates going back to that world, how much he’s afraid of going back to that world.  
  


//

  
  
Jongin likes Sehun’s school. It’s the only place he ever goes to when he leaves the house except for grocery shopping, when Luhan is busy and can’t pick Sehun up. Jongin doesn’t like talking with people; he never had, but ever since he left Seoul he’s always been absolutely petrified when he leaves the bookshop.  
  
Sehun’s school is ok, though. Jongin arrives after the majority of mothers and domestic helpers have left, and Sehun’s always sitting on the bench around the big tree at the entrance of the school, swinging his legs.  
  
Only he’s not there.  
  
He’s not there, not under that tree.  
  
Jongin stares, before he’s rushing to tug at the nearest security guard, pointing at the place where Sehun usually sits. The security guard is flabbergasted and tries to run away from this hysterical foreigner, but Jongin manages to collect himself and calls Luhan.  
  
He’s escorted into the headmistress’ office with a warm glass of water as the janitors and security guards start looking around. Sehun’s class teacher sits in, but he cannot speak Chinese and she cannot speak Korean - so they sit in silence.  
  
Luhan rushes in, and after a rapid-fire exchange, turns to Jongin with a grim look on his face. “They got him on camera by the gates,” He said, “There was a man in a trench coat - he was careful not to be seen. It seems as if Sehun left voluntarily with him.”  
  
“That’s impossible,” Jongin rasps, “Sehun- Sehun would never- I taught him-”  
  
“I agree,” Luhan says solemnly, “Sehun is very clever. But I recognize the man. It’s Chen.”  
  
A kittenish smile fills Jongin’s vision. “Who does he work for, Luhan?” He asks.  
  
“It’s Kris.” Luhan sighs. A horrified gasp comes from the other end of the room and they realize the class teacher is still there. She doesn’t understand Korean, but she recognizes the name, and that’s enough.  
  
Stuttering, she bows her way out of the room, and Jongin lets her be. He can’t let Sehun back in this school anymore anyways.  
  
“But why Sehun?” Jongin presses, “I’ve- I’ve never done anything to Kris.”  
  
“But I have,” Luhan huffs. “Jongin, Kris is my brother. He’s the heir to half of my father’s holdings, while I hold the other half. He’s not satisfied with what he will have, never was, never will be.”  
  
“Why Sehun?” Jongin repeats.  
  
“The picture, Sehun’s picture of the family, the one he lost,” Luhan says urgently, “Sehun told me about it when I picked him up that day - the title’s ‘My family’, and there’s him, you, _and_ me on it. Kris must have thought Sehun’s _my_ son as well.”  
  
Jongin pales. “This is your fault, Luhan,” He murmurs quietly, “Give me my son back.”  
  
Luhan slumped down on his chair, tugging his hair frustratedly. “I can’t do anything!” Luhan cried out, “My hands are metaphorically tied behind my back by my father - I don’t have enough power to go up against Kris. Even when I took you in, those years ago, it took forever to convince my father to not do a background check on you.”  
  
And Jongin does owe Luhan this, doesn’t he? Jongin will end his life for Luhan, but this isn’t about Jongin, or Luhan. It’s about _Sehun_.  
  
And he says so, and Luhan falls silent. “I won’t let you face this alone,” Luhan finally says, “I know how much Sehun means to you.”  
  
And he does, doesn’t he? Without Sehun, Jongin is nothing.  
  


//

  
  
Jongin couldn’t sleep, so he’s awake when the door opens and Luhan utters someone inside their shared apartment. There’s the sound of wheels sliding across the floorboards, so he steps out into the lounge area.  
  
He hadn’t seen them in nearly a decade.  
  
He stumbles when he dashes back to his room, feet making a horrible screeching sound at turning too abruptly.  
  
Luhan is right on his heels, so Jongin can’t even close the door when he’s forced to face the other man.  
  
“What’s your problem!” Luhan snarls.  
  
“I can’t- I can’t-”  
  
Luhan grabs him by the shoulders roughly, shaking him. “Jongin, collect yourself! I don’t know what happened to you all those years ago but- don’t you think it’s time to overcome this?”  
  
Jongin buries his face in Luhan’s shoulder and Luhan lets him, his hands sliding down to hug Jongin.  
  
“Anyway, they already know who you are,” Luhan says, much quieter, “I’ve also called Kyungsoo here. Stick by him, ok?”  
  
Yixing is not the same as Jongin remembers him. His face has hardened even more, his eyes more piercing, and he is unreadable as Jongin enters the room, while Chanyeol and Baekhyun are just casually draped across the chairs given to them.  
  
“Long time no see,” Baekhyun smirks to Jongin, and Chanyeol waves a casual hand in greeting, like they are old friends. Yixing’s eyes are piercing and his face is set.  
  
“So, we all know why we’re here,” Luhan says in a firm tone, his eyes bearing into Yixing’s. “Kris has overstepped boundaries and kidnapped Sehun, Jongin’s son, and I want him back. You guys have bone with Kris as well, but the main objective is to get Sehun back safe and sound.”  
  
“I’m only here to defeat Kris now that you have promised not to intervene,” Yixing adds stiffly, “The boy will be your concern.”  
  
“Sehun will be your first concern,” Luhan hisses, “If anything happens to him, you can be assured that my men will be knocking on your door every single day.”  
  
“You can try,” Baekhyun leans forward in challenge, and the atmosphere becomes suffocating.  
  
“I won’t sacrifice myself for a boy,” Yixing finally says, “Perhaps we should move our focus back onto Kris Wu, however. He won’t let himself get tripped up by a child.”  
  
The three of them launch into a technical discussion, Chanyeol pulling his laptop out, Baekhyun and Luhan’s limbs flailing all around the place. Yixing sits back in his chair and only interjects now and then, but his opinions are always critical and precise. It’s like the old days again, when Jongin just sat in the corner while Baekhyun and Chanyeol planned, too young to understand how killing could be planned out, too old to have the excuse to leave the room.  
  
So it’s only then does Jongin have the time to think.  
  
Does Yixing still remember?  
  
“Minseok’s my problem!” Yixing’s angry shout startles Jongin, and the man has stood up, staring down on a surprisingly smug Luhan. What’s going on?  
  
“I’m just saying that Sehun and Minseok are the same,” Luhan says calmly, “If you want Jongin to help save Minseok, you will save Sehun.”  
  
Jongin wonders if Yixing will be as negligent about Sehun’s life if he knew Sehun was his son.  
  
The door clicks open anti-climatically. “What have I missed?” Kyungsoo asks, slipping into the room looking as if he hadn’t aged a day.  
  
Kyungsoo is just like Jongin remembers, soft, cropped hair, wide eyes that infer innocence, plump, heart-shaped lips, a gentle curve to his face. Tears are welling up. “Just in time,” Baekhyun says mockingly, “I didn’t think you would come, busy being a sugar daddy and all.”  
  
“I’d be sure to tell Junmyeon you said that next time we meet,” Kyungsoo rebukes sweetly, slipping onto the chair next to Jongin. Their thighs touch lightly and immediately Jongin can feel tension seeping out of him. He doesn’t know anything about this Junmyeon, doesn’t know what has happened to Kyungsoo these nine years, but Kyungsoo still makes him feel so safe.  
  
“We’re just planning,” Yixing says calmly, “Using our data on Kris Wu.”  
  
“Well, since neither Jongin and I have knowledge on that sort of thing, we’ll leave you guys to it.” Kyungsoo jerks Jongin up by the arm harshly, and under Yixing’s watchful eye, disappear into Sehun’s room.  
  
“Hey,” Kyungsoo whispers gently as soon as they’re in the safety of the room, “How you’ve been?”  
  
And he’s a little boy again, and he’s so, so scared of all these adults, these adults he can’t kill, these adults who will kill him. “As best as I can be, I guess,” He laughs drily, sitting on Sehun’s bed. The walls are colourfully painted, and Sehun’s favourite kitten nightlight is still sitting on the bedside table. Jongin has to charge it up again, he remembers absentmindedly. It flashes yellow and blue in the night.  
  
“That’s not good enough,” Kyungsoo says disapprovingly, “Tell me about Sehun.”  
  
Jongin opens his mouth, and closes it again. Instead, he goes to Sehun’s closet and takes out the photo album, from where it is buried under Sehun’s winter jackets. He sits back down next to Kyungsoo and opens it to all the polaroids he had taken of his son. “This is Sehun, when he was a baby,” Jongin introduces, pointing at the baby in the bumblebee onesie.  
  
“So cute,” Kyungsoo smiles, “Just like you.”  
  
And it’s not sexual, or even remotely romantic, even if it does strange things to Jongin’s stomach, because Kyungsoo is the closest thing Jongin has ever had to a father. He’s proud to be here, with Kyungsoo, telling him his story.  
  
He wants to make Kyungsoo proud, and he’s also crying, letting out all the pent-up emotions of the last night, his insecurities and fears, and Kyungsoo is holding him, soothing him.  
  
The door opens then, and Jongin tries to push Kyungsoo away, but Kyungsoo is having none of it. He holds Jongin and wipes away his tears, raising an eyebrow to Baekhyun who’s leaning against the door frame with a grimace.  
  
“If you’re done with your girls’ talk,” Baekhyun drawls, “We got a sudden tip-off. Some of their guys are under our control now. Yixing wants both of you there.”  
  
Kyungsoo’s fingers clenches, but he gets off the bed, pulling Jongin along.  
  
Chanyeol drives him, Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, and Yixing to their safe house. An awkward atmosphere settles over the ride, Chanyeol drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, Baekhyun idly playing with a random rubik's cube behind him. Yixing leans back on his seat in the front, eyes unfocused, brows furrowed slightly.  
  
Kyungsoo is silent from where he sits between Baekhyun and Jongin, but the rigidness of his body hints to Jongin that he’s observing everyone. It’s not just Jongin who hasn’t seen everyone in nine years, it’s also Kyungsoo who hasn’t seen everyone in nine years, not even Jongin.  
  
He should have asked where Kyungsoo had been, but the older man hadn’t volunteered.  
  
The place they are led to is a nondescript warehouse, a small dinghy apartment perched on top of it with the ladder outside. It looks unoccupied, but once they open the door Jongin can immediately smell piss and puke. It churns uncomfortably in his stomach.  
  
Two rat-like men nod to them and disappear into the darkness, leaving the two men bound to the pillars of the warehouse with chains, trembling in place.  
  
“Let’s begin.” Yixing thunders, and immediately he’s punching one of the men across the face, the force so hard the man’s cheek crashes against the pillar.  
  
“Tell me everything you know, or I’ll shoot you through every single toe,” Yixing seethes, drawing out a pistol from his jacket. Jongin hadn’t even realized Yixing had brought firearms along.  
  
“Calm down,” Jongin said, “If you-  
  
“These men, these _scum_ work for the man who have _our_ sons in their hands, and you want to tell me to calm down?” Yixing roars, the hand holding the gun shaking.  
  
“I’ll take him away, Xing,” Baekhyun volunteers, “You guys continue.”  
  
Yixing turns back to the bound men with an angry huff, and the door closes on Jongin’s face. “You’ve softened up a lot, since the last time we met,” Baekhyun observes, leaning against the wall of the shed, “Or hardened? The old you would never have spoke up against Yixing.”  
  
“Yixing talked about... our sons?” Jongin asks instead.  
  
“Kim Minseok,” Baekhyun says ominously, and the door cracks open.  
  
“They know something,” Yixing says, “Get it out of them before I blow their heads off.”  
  
“Everything will be alright, Xing,” Baekhyun soothes, “You get some air here with Jongin, I’ll go in. We were just talking about Minseok, actually.”  
  
“What about Minseok?” Yixing’s eyes flashes curiously, but he seems to be much calmer than he was.  
  
“We didn’t actually say anything,” Jongin replies, looking away, “Start from the beginning?”  
  
“Minseok is my son,” Yixing says softly, and Jongin has to grasp his pants for support. There’s something in Yixing’s eyes that irritates Jongin, that makes him want to scream out loud in vindication. It’s unfair, the way Yixing talks about this boy. It’s unfair.  
  
“I found him at the entrance of a club, chained to one of the lamp posts, not long after we... left. He was a little fighter, even then. He’s grown so much these few years.” Then Yixing’s voice hardens. “Minseok wouldn’t want me to stop fighting for his sake. As long as I can get him back, I will do anything. If that means compromising my principles, so be it. Minseok is worth anything, and I will do anything for him to have the best future.”  
  
“Then you understand how I feel,” Jongin says, “If you have a son, too, then you understand how I feel.”  
  
In a rough movement, Yixing has Jongin pinned against the wall, mouth covering his sloppily, and Jongin falls entirely into it. He’s forgotten how it feels, Yixing’s urgency, Yixing’s power, Yixing’s desire.  
  
They stumble to the loft above the shed, kick back the dust-covered blankets. “Fuck you,” Jongin hisses out when Yixing only pulls down both their pants enough to stick his cock inside him, and Yixing retaliates with pulling Jongin’s hands above his head, before setting up a ruthless pace.  
  
“I have your first kiss, your first fuck, your everything,” Yixing growls lowly, “You’re fucking mine.”  
  
Jongin’s entrance is too dry, Yixing too fast and powerful, but the pain spreads through him pleasurably, sadistically, and Jongin bites down on Yixing’s bottom lip until he tastes blood. Yixing lets his hands go, and Jongin scratches welts on Yixing’s face, before the older man flips him over on all fours, not pausing in his thrusts.  
  
Yixing fucks him like a dog. Primal, obsessive, uncaring. “Fuck you!” Jongin screams again as they both ejaculate on the same time.  
  
Then Yixing is gone, drawing his cigarettes from his pocket as he slams the door behind him.  
  
Jongin curls up on himself, lying on the edge of the bed to get him as far from Yixing as possible. He hates how just one single touch from the older man lit him up, he hates how Yixing used him, and he hates himself for enjoying it. He hates everything Yixing represented and he hates how he still obsesses over him.  
  
It feels like eternity before he picks himself up, wincing as he wipes blood and bum off his skin, but the guys aren’t even done by the time he gets back down to the car. He waits there until the other guys come out, and once again Yixing takes shotgun, like nothing has happened.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t notice his grimace.  
  
“They only gave us a general location,” Baekhyun reports, “Apparently Kris has kidnapped a lot of kids recently. Not sure if it’s deliberate, or to throw us off. They didn’t know which kids we were referring to, nor did they know what Kris has planned with them.”  
  
“Rather smart of him,” Yixing says, “None of those men know the whole plan. Likely only Kris and whoever his second in charge is will know. To be fair, we didn’t tell our men the whole plan either. Neither have you, Luhan, right?”  
  
“Well, we are brothers,” Luhan says casually, “Fair that we think alike.”  
  
“What? What do you mean?” Jongin asks, bewildered , “Brothers? Yixing, you are-”  
  
“I was the unwanted son,” Yixing’s lips are curled in distaste, “So I had to find my own way of surviving.”  
  
“Is it even that surprising?” Luhan laughs drily, “Things like these always happen. We’re brothers in name, that’s all.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter at all,” Yixing adds, “Kris wants both of us gone, and he’s decided to start with me.”  
  
“So... your brother wants to kill you?” Jongin stutters out.  
  
“It’s not just me he wants,” Yixing shakes his head, “It is easy to kill me. What he wants is my influence. If I die, Chanyeol and Baekhyun will take my place. If they die, there will be people to take their place. Even if they do not have my lineage, that matters little when it comes to firepower. What Kris wants is to subjugate me under his control, so that he will have control over my men as well. And that’s why he took Minseok, and that’s why he took Sehun, because he wants to control Luhan as well. Whether or not we are brothers... that doesn’t really matter, does it?”  
  
And it doesn’t, not really. Jongin had just forgotten how cruel this world was. And he had also forgotten how cruel Yixing is.  
  
“Sehun isn’t my son, just saying,” Luhan says, “Kris Wu made a mistake.”  
  
“He’s not your son?” Yixing asks nonchalantly, “He doesn’t look much like Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Yixing, Sehun is nine years old,” Kyungsoo said calmly, “Jongin hadn’t met Luhan then, hadn’t met anyone. I never slept with Jongin, not once.”  
  
Jongin did not realize he was holding his breath until Yixing took a stuttering step back, his eyes wide, surprisingly innocent.  
  
“What do you mean, Kyungsoo?” Yixing asks hesitantly, but all four men know that Yixing already has the answer. “Sehun is- Jongin- “  
  
Jongin nods, look to his shoes. “Kyungsoo, come with me.” Luhan doesn’t even bother looking for an excuse as he pulls the older man out of the room.  
  
Yixing still seems to be shocked, rooted to the spot. “Nini,” He says, and Jongin is a child again, small and young, “Jonginnie, Sehun is- he is- you- I- fuck!”  
  
Yixing clears his throat, eyes wide and disbelieving. “What have I done?”  
  
Jongin doesn’t understand the hollowness in Yixing’s voice, the broken quality of it grating him. Barely an hour ago this man was violating him, plundering him, using him, but still Jongin craves his attention and affirmation.  
  
“Is he- my son?”  
  
Jongin sighs heavily. “Do you really need me to answer you?”  
  
Forceful hands grip his shoulders, and he cries out in shock and pain, but there is something crazed in Yixing’s eyes, obsessive, overwhelming.  
  
“Tell me!”  
  
“Yes!” Jongin screams back, “I was fucking vomiting when you fucking left me! You goddamn abandoned the both of us! I didn’t expect you to do anything for Sehun all these fucking years, but now you’ve gone and picked up another fucking boy!”  
  
Yixing’s already pale complexion turns a sickly shade of white, and his hands are hurting Jongin, but Yixing is hurting, too.  
  
Then the door opens again, and Kyungsoo steps back in.  
  
“Stop arguing, the both of you,” The man says, “Yixing, you’ve made bad decisions nine years ago. Get over that. Jongin, you can’t blame Yixing for something he doesn’t know. Now step back.”  
  
Yixing flinches immediately as if burnt, so does Jongin.  
  
“This is bigger than the two of you, and your sons,” Kyungsoo shakes his head, exasperated, “This is about the men who work for you and Luhan, men with mouths to feed. This is about me, about Baekhyun and Chanyeol. This is about the underworld of Hong Kong, and if both of you are going to let your emotions control you, you might as well kill yourself right now, before Kris Wu does.”  
  
“You’re right,” Yixing mutters deeply, “You’re right.” His words carry conviction in it.  
  
“Why Minseok?” Jongin presses, “Why bring him here in this adult’s war?”  
  
Yixing laughed drily. “Jongin, I’m 38 now. I’m not exactly young anymore. Whatever legacy I build, there’s going to have to be someone to inherit it.  
  
“And I don’t think you’d want Sehun to be the one to do that.”  
  
“And Minseok is ready?” Jongin demands.  
  
“Does he have a choice?” Yixing says immediately. “His fate would have been much worse if I hadn’t picked him up. His parents knew exactly what they were doing when they left him in front of that nightclub, instead of the police station, or an orphanage. His parents hated him, Jongin. At least, with me, he has a purpose.”  
  
“What about me?” The words are out before he registers it, and he almost wants to turn tail and run.  
  
Yixing’s pretty eyes look at him sadly. “Let’s drink, Jongin.”  
  
Yixing takes out six bottles of vodka from the trunk of his car, and they sit at the floor of Jongin’s bedroom as he breaks open every single one of them. The alcohol scorches their throat but Jongin doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop until he’s peeling away at Yixing’s layers voluntarily, letting the older man spread him apart, make him break down.  
  
Alcohol sloshes in his brain again, just like it had that very first night, but Jongin had never been more clear of what he wanted.  
  
“You’ve been on my mind for the past nine years,” Yixing’s words are slurred, his fingers roaming around Jongin’s skin, but his thrusts are gentle, like Jongin will break anytime. “I didn’t even know why, the first few months when I was being attacked left and right, I would always see you. I went back, you know, after I had a safe house, but you weren’t there.  
  
“I figured you didn’t want to see me.  
  
“Then I found you, here, with a son. You’re even prettier than I remembered you being.  
  
“So pretty, so innocent, so beautiful. I didn’t want to destroy that.”  
  
“You already did,” Jongin moans out, “Nine years ago.”  
  
“I’ll take responsibility,” Yixing gasps into his ear, “For everything.”  
  
“You better,” Jongin starts crying now, and he thinks of the past nine years, thinks of Sehun, thinks of Yixing, only Yixing is right here, and Sehun is not.  
  
He wakes up with a crippling hangover, and Yixing is fast asleep. Jongin rummages through his cupboards, coming up empty-handed. He hadn’t had alcohol since Sehun had entered his life, and he has to go down to the convenience store for advil.  
  
He randomly grabs some clothes on, still reeking of alcohol and sweat, but he can care less as he reaches the bottom of the apartment building.  
  
He doesn’t notice the men trailing him until they have their hands over his mouth, the taste of chloroform invading his senses.  
  


//

  
  
Cold water splashes onto his face and Jongin thrashes where he was tied against the chair. “Dad!” Sehun’s scream pierces through the fog in Jongin’s brain, and his eyes snaps open.  
  
Sehun’s cheek is swollen and bruised, but his eyes are defiant from where he is held down in the corner. Jongin thrashes against the bonds, the coarse ropes digging roughly into his skin. “Sehunnie- Sehunnie- please- let us go-”  
  
“I don’t think so, darling,” Jongin whips his head around, and the room is full of men, but only one catches Jongin’s attention. Slicked black hair, sharp features, Jongin knows who he is even as he wears the same black as the rest of the men.  
  
“Kidnapping children never settled well with me, but Luhan always kept his hands clean,” Kris starts to explain, walking closer to Sehun, “A child seemed like the only leverage I could get over him. My men took him here, I looked at him, surprise! Who is this? I thought to myself, He doesn’t look like Luhan at all, but I know him! Who else can it be, but Yixing?”  
  
Jongin shivers under his intense gaze, the smile that plays on his lips, but nothing else about Kris says that he’s near amused. He can feel the wave of anxiety looming up again, the ropes chaffing into his skin, sweat pouring down his inner thighs.  
  
“So I must thank you, Kim Jongin, for giving me a bigger fish than I thought I’d had,” Kris continues, “I wonder what my baby brother will think when I’m done with the both of you.”  
  
“Please,” Jongin chokes out, trembling in place, “My son has nothing to do with your fight.”  
  
“That’s what you think,” Kris’ expression doesn’t change, “But does Yixing think so?”  
  
“What will you gain from killing us?” Jongin pleads, “Please- we won’t do anything- just let us-”  
  
A harsh sound makes Jongin flinch, and he freezes up even further as Kris continues clapping. Mocking, cold, hard. He can hear Sehun’s whimpering.  
  
“Where did Yixing find such a poor, innocent soul like you?” Kris asks rhetorically, “You look more like the kind of people he picks apart.”  
  
Jongin shivers and shies away from Kris’ aura, and his smug little smile. “Wait for Chen’s orders,” Kris address his men, “I’ll be busy planning the welcome party for my darling little brother.”  
  
Jongin can breathe, now that Kris has left the room.  
  
Sehun is crying, but he’s trying so hard to hold his tears in, his eyes and nose swollen red. He’s trying so hard to be strong, but Jongin’s crying too. He can’t reach out for his baby boy, and Sehun can’t reach out to him, either.  
  
The door opens again, and another boy is pushed in. The cat-like man Jongin had seen in Luhan’s bookstore is here, eyes twinkling with mirth. There’s a boy sprawled at his feet, and Jongdae enjoys it, Jongin realizes. Jongdae enjoys looking at this boy cowering beneath him.  
  
Before Jongin can react, however, Jongdae is taking huge strides towards him, stepping over the boy’s prone body, pushing one of Kris’ men out of the way. Jongdae grabs Jongin by the chin, smirking at him before kissing him violently.  
  
Jongin freezes up, feeling the wet appendage plunder his mouth, and he quickly retaliates, thrashing against his bounds and biting down hard. Blood pours down his throat and there are fingers on his throat, jerking him upward, extending his throat like a dying swan, until he fears that his neck is going to snap.  
  
Sehun is crying again.  
  
Then Jongdae whips away, releasing Jongin from his suffocating grip, as if he had just entered the room and had nothing to do with the coughing Jongin. “You and you, with me,” Jongdae snaps his fingers to two men, “The Boss needs you. Other guys, every other hour, and remember the photos.”  
  
With Jongdae’s departure, Jongin is released from his bonds, and he immediately dashes over to Sehun’s side, spitting up blood and bile. His baby boy looks even more distraught up close, the corner of his eyes are cracking from crying too much. “I’m sorry!” Sehun screams, burying his face in Jongin’s shirt, “He said- he said he would hurt you- I- I thought-”  
  
“Shhh,” Jongin soothes, “Everything will be alright.”  
  
There’s someone else approaching, and Jongin looks up to see one of Kris’ men dragging the boy Jongdae had brought over by the arm.  
  
Jongin looks into a hard gaze, and with a jolt he immediately knows who this boy is. Jongin had been haunted by that same gaze for the better part of nine years, after all.  
  
Minseok looks to be around 15, 16 years of age, as old as Jongin when he had started killing. Sharp eyes, chubby cheeks, he looks extremely out of place in a room of killers. He nods sharply when he catches Jongin’s eyes, but Jongin are well aware of how children work. The boy is nervous and scared, coupled with the bruises and scars all over him. Kris’ men have clearly treated him differently from how they had done Sehun, and Jongin feels like he should feel guilty for thinking that it was better this boy than Sehun, but Sehun is _Sehun_.  
  
Still, it doesn’t stop him from enveloping Minseok in his arms, hiding the two boys behind him when Kris’ men advance with their batons, illustrating to Jongin what Jongdae had meant by “every other hour”.  
  
But better the blows land on him, than on Sehun and Minseok.  
  
Kris is trying to anger Yixing, Jongin figures out from the fragmented conversations he overhears during the hours they’re left alone. They’re being beat up to force Yixing’s hand prematurely, before they get beaten to death.  
  
And suddenly, it stops. If the men have been beating them every other hour, then Jongin, Sehun, and Minseok have spent 18 hours huddled together in a pile. The man who seems to be in charge in the room waves his tablet around, and then rough hands are hauling Jongin up, yanking the boys after him painfully.  
  
They’re stuffed headfirst into the back of a van, blindfolds going around their eyes. “Come here,” Jongin says in a small voice, and both boys burrow closer to him, Sehun’s small digits and Minseok’s unfamiliar ones.  
  
The ride is long and tedious, and more than once Sehun starts whimpering out loud when the driver hits a particular bumpy spot. Minseok is still silent, stays silent for the whole trip.  
  
Warmth hits Jongin’s face and he automatically curls around his boys, but hands are peeling away his blindfold.  
  
Sehun is clutching to his shirt, fingers digging into his skin painfully. Jongdae pushes him out onto the cement, eyes sharp and cold, but his hands caress Jongin’s face challengingly. Minseok and Sehun sprawl on top of him, and Minseok hisses where his knees are scraped on the pavement. Then Jongdae is leaping into the back of the van, the door slamming harshly as the vehicle skids off.  
  
“Come on, we don’t have all day!” Baekhyun orders harshly, dragging Jongin onto his feet. Chanyeol is lifting Sehun and Minseok up gently, but Jongin detects the pure anger directed in his direction.  
  
They get back into Luhan’s flat, the owner himself nowhere to be seen. “I’ll take the kids down to the bookstore,” Kyungsoo says, expression unreadable, “Luhan said he would watch over them. We need to hurry.”  
  
Sehun sends a panicked look to Jongin, but he nods reassuringly. Luhan will keep them safe, this time. “Wait,” Minseok says in a small voice, “Where’s- where’s Dad?”  
  
Chanyeol is shaking as he pats Minseok’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back soon. Go with Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Is this my fault?” Minseok asks again in a small voice.  
  
“Of course not,” Baekhyun sighs heavily, “Now get out of here.”  
  
Minseook visibly flinches, but Sehun wraps their hands together in comfort, tugging him gently after Kyungsoo.  
  
“Come on, are you ok to fight?” Baekhyun asks impatiently.  
  
“Where’s Yixing?” Jongin asks blindly instead, “Where is he?  
  
“He gave himself up for you, you fucking idiot!” Chanyeol yells, slamming the door behind him as he left the house.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Jongin repeats stupidly.  
  
“Something you told him, that day,” Baekhyun says quietly, “It stayed with him. He said- he told me to tell you, Minseok needs a father, too.” The shorter man’s eyes are serious and dark, and Jongin can’t breathe. “Look, I’ll never agree with what he did,” Baekhyun continues, “I didn’t, when he took Minseok in. But I respect him, always. That was his decision. Now we’re going to save Yixing before Kris loses his shit and kills him. You stay here.”  
  
“No.” Jongin blurts out before he can control himself. Yixing- Yixing isn’t this kind of man. Yixing- Yixing just isn’t.  
  
But no matter what kind of man Yixing is, Jongin isn’t going to leave him alone.  
  


//

  
  
The second car-ride of the day, and it’s not any better. Jongin ends up dozing off on Kyungsoo’s shoulder after 18 hours of prolonged captivity, his entire body screaming as his bruises and cuts gets jostled against his clothes, but he swallows it all. By the time they get to Kris Wu’s base, night is falling.  
  
“He’ll be waiting for us,” Chanyeol says, tight-lipped. “We have to be ready.”  
  
Guns and clips are passed around, and Jongin has to familiarize himself with the weight of the clip pouch around his waist.  
  
Kris Wu’s base is brightly lit, an industrial building hiding amongst many others in the abandoned areas of Kwun Tong. The ride isn’t that long, actually. Mong Kok and Kwun Tong are relatively close. Jongin didn’t know why he had though the ride back earlier had been horribly drawn out.  
  
They enter the lobby, and a shot breaks the silence. “Fuck!” Baekhyun spits out, pressing a hand to his left shoulder, “Thank fuck I don’t need my left hand to shoot straight.”  
  
A familiar shadow pounces out from behind the security guard’s desk and runs through the fire-exit, the door slamming against the faded wallpaper noisily. “He was waiting to pick one of us out,” Kyungsoo mumbles, “Seeing as he’s alone, it’s probably his own idea, not Kris’.”  
  
The lobby is eerily silent after that escapade, Baekhyun quickly sticking a bandage over the place where Jongdae’s bullet had scratched him. Chanyeol leads the way, pushing open the fire escape, quickly throwing a tear gas bomb onto the stairs leading upwards. No sound. “Beneath, then,” Baekhyun orders, “Another carpark fight. I love those.”  
  
The building is old, the stairs scraped of paint, leaving the cement underneath. Pipes run along the walls, and the beams of light above them flicker sporadically. Chanyeol pushes open the door, and they’re greeted with rows and rows of cars, and rows and rows of men.  
  
“Cover!” Baekhyun shouts out, and Jongin ducks behind the same Toyota as Baekhyun a millisecond before the rain of bullets start to pour down. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are moving to opposite directions, already returning shots.  
  
Baekhyun grabs Jongin by the arm forcefully, making Jongin look at him. “You’re a liability,” Baekhyun growls as a final word, “To us, to Yixing, to your son. Always have been, always will be. Take that flank.”  
  
Jongin goes where Baekhyun points him to, ducking behind one of the cars just in time for a bullet to send the Volvo behind him shuddering at the impact. The adrenaline is kicking in now, but he’s cautious that it’s his bravado speaking, and he’s not as good as he used to be. He scoots over to the trunk, quickly firing a few shots before ducking down again, gauging the positions of their enemies.  
  
A man pops out from where he’s hiding; Jongin is quick to blast him down before he can shoot, and he falls back. When Jongin ducks back into cover, his arms are shaking slightly, because this time, Sehun is safe and sound at home with Minseok, he’s not fighting this war for himself. It’s for Yixing.  
  
Another splay of bullets come from a shotgun, and Jongin is careful to seek new cover now that his position has blown. One round done, and he’s firing his pistol in quick succession, not pausing to see where his target is. The lack of shotgun tells him that his muscles, at least, hadn’t forgotten their training.  
  
Baekhyun has taken the middle, Chanyeol on the left flank. Baekhyun has a sniper rifle lying right next to him, in addition to the pistol in his hands. “We’re ready!” Chanyeol says through the coms, and Jongin quickly scrambles for new cover further away from their opponents, so does Baekhyun.  
  
And it’s just like the old days, only gang wars don’t occur this frequently, nor to this scale, but all the same Chanyeol flings his tear gas over him. Baekhyun throws Jongin one of their gas masks and he’s quick to slap it on, but he’s careful to hide behind cover as white smoke starts to envelop his sight. The mask is slightly narrower on his face. It’s Yixing’s, judging from the smell.  
  
Through the infrared visor he can see the red outlines of his opponents, coughing loudly under the tear gas. There’s Baekhyun, to his left, and he’s already picking out people with the sniper rifle. There’s a muffler on top of it, so the only thing that signals the fall of Kris’ men is the low thuds bodies make as they connect with the floor.  
  
“I see him!” Kyungsoo scoots into Jongin’s cover, shouting in his ear, “Two o’clock! Cut him out!” A push on the small of his back and Jongin is dashing away.  
  
Nine years ago, this had been what he was good at. He had a tinier and limber frame than the others, and was more particularly gifted with staying unseen. Where Yixing, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo had always been the gun-blazing type of guy, Jongin was the one with the sleight of hand, sneaking to places unknown, sniping people from unknown corners.  
  
The carpark of the industrial complex was huge, and oddly full of cars and vans. Jongin was willing to bet that the whole building was full of Kris’ productions, be it drugs or firearms. The big, fat pillars offer perfect cover as he darts across the space, careful to stay away from the fighting.  
  
And there Yixing is, tied to one of the pillars with thick, heavy rope, with an almost bored look on his face, at the very back of Kris’ lines of men. Kris has a lot of men, but they seem to be young and untried. Many seem to be frightened of the mere act of handling a gun, judging by the long period of time they spend hiding behind cars as opposed to actually using their firearms.  
  
Knowing Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, many of them won’t make it out alive.  
  
Jongin sneaks around the back, taking advantage of the dispersing gas. He keeps his gun out just in case, but Kris’ men are far too untrained to notice there’s someone behind them, and Jongin’s lucky that Kris isn’t on this flank.  
  
Yixing twitches slightly when Jongin comes up to him. He is surrounded by Kris’ men, after all. Jongin grasps Yixing’s hands lightly, and starts work with his switchblade.  
  
There is only the two of them in this little bubble, and the war around them becomes muted, distant, and all Jongin can hear are the sounds of their breathing and the drag of metal against cord.  
  
It’s broken, then, as the blade bites into Jongin’s left thumb, and he almost drops his knife at the sudden shock. But he has to continue. Another few seconds, another deep cut, until blood is dripping onto the cold cement floor and Jongin’s left hand is quickly going numb, but he continues pulling the cord taut as his right hand hacks away at it.  
  
A bullet ricochets into Jongin’s left arm and he swallows his grunt. Yixing’s fingers brush lightly over the back of his right hand, and he knows this is Yixing’s way of showing support. The blade cuts into his fingers again, but he’s already immune to it as he hacks through Yixing’s ropes.  
  
Baekhyun and Chanyeol are still exchanging shots with Kris’ men, but the enemy are advancing, while the bullet rain from their side is getting weaker and weaker. He needs to hurry.  
  
The cord snaps.  
  
Everything’s too close. The rope gives way and Yixing is kicking out, sweeping the man on his left off his feet, grabbing the man on his right by the collar and slamming his head onto the hard cement pillar.  
  
Jongin’s arm is completely useless now, blood still pouring from it. “Come on!” Yixing’s shout is disembodied, far away as Jongin’s getting heady from the blood loss, now that the adrenaline rush is over.  
  
He’s dragged across the cement, before he’s suddenly airborne and carried in Yixing’s arms. He’s deposited behind some cover, and a quick tourniquet around his arm is all he gets before Yixing shoves a gun into his hand. “Wait here for me,” The older man vows sincerely, pressing a quick kiss to Jongin’s forehead, “I’ll be back soon.”  
  
Jongin doesn’t dare close his eyes, but he desperately wants to. He can hear Kyungsoo’s enraged shouts, Baekhyun’s cackling, Yixing’s orders. Gunfire ricochet around him like a symphony. There are men yelling, whimpering, there’s Kris voice shouting above the storm.  
  
Clop. Clop. Jongin raises his gun.  
  
“Hello beautiful,” Jongdae smiles, leaning casually against a nearby car, as if he was not in the middle of a firefight. “Really wished we’d have met in different circumstances. Better circumstances really. Why couldn’t you be a barista at Starbucks, and me your annoying customer? Or better, you being an exasperated dog-owner and me the single dad who swoops in to save the day. Wouldn’t you wish your story was a fairytale, hmm?”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jongin snarls out. The two guns are pointed at each other, but Jongin’s hands are shaking with exertion. Jongdae’s hands are wrapped around his pistol delicately, ready to fire.  
  
“I wish we could talk more, but I can’t waste much time with you here,” Jongdae continues, as if he hadn’t heard Jongin’s words, “Say hi to hell for me, beautiful.”  
  
Brain matter and blood splashes against the side of the blue Benz, and Jongdae slumps down.  
  
“Sorry, _sweetheart_ ,” Yixing pants heavily, the mouth of his pistol smoking slightly from overuse, “I didn’t mean to be late.”  
  
Yixing shoots again, Jongdae’s motionless body jolting at the force of the bullet. Tears leak out of Jongin’s eyes. “Is it over yet?” He asks.  
  
“Almost,” Yixing says reverently, “This time, I’ll be right by your side.”  
  
The fight is winding down around them, Baekhyun’s shouts becoming more and more excited, exchange of gunfire dwindling down as Kris’ men fall like flies. Then, in the midst of it all, a desperate cry.  
  
“Zhang Yixing! Let us stop this meaningless fight. This is between you and I. Come out and we’ll fight one on one!”  
  
Yixing takes a step forward, and Jongin’s heart skips a beat. “You can’t be serious!” He bursts out, “We’re winning right now!”  
  
Yixing cocks his head to a side, making him look much cuter and younger. “Do you trust me, Nini?”  
  
While Jongin nods dumbly, Yixing is already walking out. A hushed silence descends over the carpark. “There you are, brother of mine,” Kris says, still regal and dignified as he steps out from behind a Volkswagen.  
  
“Cut the poetic bullshit, Yifan,” Yixing snorts loudly, “Let’s just get it over with.”  
  
Then Kris collapses, Kyungsoo standing up behind a Volvo to get the headshot, and everything descends into chaos as Jongin loses consciousness.  
  


//

  
  
There’s a small weight on his right arm when he wakes up. Small, but enough to cut off his blood circulation, not that he can feel his left arm either. His lips are parched, and his eyelashes feel sticky with disuse, but it’s a happy sight that greets him.  
  
Ironically, it is the unfamiliarity of the hospital ward that fills him with relief.  
  
Sehun is slumped over the hospital bed. His hair is getting a bit too long now, the fringe reaching his eyes. Sehun insisted that it was fashionable, but Jongin is afraid Sehun’s just going to start bumping into stuff.  
  
Minseok is curled up in the sofa in the corner. He still looks so small, even though Jongin knows he’s still seventeen, eighteen. His wounds have faded largely, and under the bright light of the hospital, Jongin can see why Yixing is absolutely in love with his son.  
  
The man himself is on the other sofa, staring at him. Yixing is in hospital scrubs, too, hair unkempt and casually falling over his eyes. Two deep indents on his cheeks accompany the sweet, gentle smile, and Jongin can almost believe that Yixing is an angel.  
  
Yixing doesn’t come over until Jongin calls for him, voice cracked, and the older man helps him sip at the glass of water on the bedstand.  
  
“Is it all over?” Jongin asks tiredly, staring at Sehun’s messy hair.  
  
“They surrendered quickly after realizing Jongdae was dead,” Yixing explains, “They are disorganised, after all. Even as we speak now my men are hunting down the last of the people that has the potential to take over Kris, and soon they will be dead. Kris never had that kind of intel on me, you see. I’m used to working in the shadows. He isn’t.”  
  
“You’re awake,” Minseok’s small voice says meekly, and the boy pads over the room to hug Jongin. He looks extra soft and cuddly in Jongin’s arms. He still hasn’t been able to see this boy as a killer, as a future mob boss like Yixing, but the look in Yixing’s face is enough to convince him that Minseok is happy, here, and he knows what he’s doing.  
  
Minseok falls asleep quickly, and Yixing lifts him onto the large hospital bed, tucking him in. Jongin sees him peeking at Sehun and he nods at the hesitation in his eyes. Gingerly, as if afraid that he would break into pieces, Yixing lifts Sehun as well, the boy instinctively snuggling into his father’s embrace before being tucked in next to Minseok.  
  
“I’m not a good father. They deserve more than me. I should- I wasn’t made to be one.”  
  
There is something thick and heavy in Yixing’s voice, as if he is desperately trying to persuade himself, but there is no conviction in his voice.  
  
“You don’t have to try to be a father,” Jongin says quietly, “You can’t try to be one. You already are one, even if you don’t admit it. There will always be space in Sehun’s heart for you if you tell him who you are, as for Minseok? He’s never thought of you as otherwise.”  
  
Yixing is silent for a long while, looking at Sehun. “You think so?”  
  
“It’s fact,” Jongin shakes his head, “Sehun looks at me the same way Minseok looks at you. The way _you_ look at Minseok, it’s the same I look at Sehun.”  
  
The boys are fast asleep next to him, curled up into balls. Sehun’s head is curled into Minseok, while Minseok is clinging to Yixing’s hand stubbornly. They’re just boys.  
  
Yixing presses a kiss to Minseok’s forehead, easing the boy onto the bed. “Watch over them for me, Jonginnie,” Yixing says, and he leaves the room once again.  
  


//

  
  
Jongin is pushed awake by Minseok. The boy has tears welling up in his eyes as he desperately pushes Jongin like a lost puppy, begging him to be awake. “I can’t find Dad,” The boy chokes out, “They’re all gone.”  
  
Jongin dashes out, and Minseok is right. The living room is completely clean, no sign of the three sleeping bags, or Chanyeol’s clothes casually strewn across the coffee table, or Baekhyun’s grubby handprints on the throw pillows, no Yixing smirking at him. The only thing that was different was a suitcase sitting lonely next to the bookcase, a white placard hung around it’s neck with the word “baozi” written on it.  
  
As if possessed Minseok stumbles towards in, and there are scribbles on it. Jongin doesn’t ask what the letter says, and Minseok never tells for the rest of their lives. All Jongin knows is that Minseok’s starts to cry, and he reaches out for Jongin.  
  
And Jongin is lost too, where was his angel, where was the man who had given him so many promises?  
  
Then Sehun is there, hugging the both of them as hard as he can, big, wide eyes filled with understanding and sympathy, like he had never seen the atrocities men could perform on each other mere days ago. Always his innocent, cute, loyal son, his entire world.  
  
Jongin has Sehun, and now he has Minseok, and he tells himself it is enough.  
  
Yixing doesn’t appear in his life for nine more years.  
  
Minseok starts disappearing in the middle of the night as he grows up, and soon after his 20th birthday he moves out. Jongin doesn’t try to stop him, but he always puts out his favourite pumpkin cake on the table on the night of Minseok’s birthday, before Jongin and Sehun goes to sleep. A third of it is always eaten, with a postcard and some money.  
  
Sehun is trying to get into one of the top universities in Hong Kong for medicine. Jongin thinks he can do it, Sehun is smart, after all. Much smarter than Jongin.  
  
He doesn’t know what’s happening to the triads of Hong Kong. Luhan moved him out soon after those particular events, set him up with a hefty fund and a trusty advisor to help invest his money in, and the bookstore has been closed down. Jongin never saw Luhan after that, but every month there’s always an extra stipend in his bank account. Jongin keeps it safe, just as he keeps Minseok’s money safe, so that if they need it, they can always seek help with Jongin.  
  
Jongin wants to make Sehun’s favourite steamed fish. His son is out in the library, revising, so Jongin is alone when he goes down to the wet market. His Cantonese has improved greatly, especially after he’s started to actually try and learn the language, and try to talk to the people here.  
  
The wet market’s closed.  
  
“Half the owners are involved in territorial disputes,” A voice behind him says, “The other half are too scared to venture out.”  
  
“Is this your doing?” He asks, turning around, and Yixing shakes his head. “Two of Kris’ former underlings,” He explains, “They’ve been making such a ruckus in the past nine years, but we’ll be gone with them soon.”  
  
“Who’s we?” Jongin asks.  
  
“Do you really want to know?” Yixing laughs drily.  
  
“Then why are you here?” Jongin presses, his fingers tightening on the strap of his bag, “I don’t want you here.”  
  
“I know,” Yixing says, “Then why haven’t you found someone, all these years?”  
  
“Well, I don’t just move on,” Jongin spits out, and he’s regretting it as soon as the words leave his mouth. But Yixing doesn’t seem to take offense. “I understand Sehun will be sitting for his public exams soon,” The older man says instead, “Is he holding up?”  
  
“He’s handling the stress quite well,” Jongin smiles, “He’s been doing so many past papers his room is filled with them; I’d have to go inside every hour to check that he’s not dead.” He pauses, then continues, “How’s Minseok?”  
  
“He’s doing fine,” Yixing is hesitant too. “More than fine, actually. Very smart. I’ve been turning more and more territory to him, and he’s been handling it well.” Another pregnant pause. “He misses you, you know. Takes after his father.”  
  
Jongin whips around and glances at Yixing. Yixing hadn’t changed a bit, had he?  
  
Awkward silence stands before them, before Yixing sighs and leans forward, drawing into a hug. “Everything’s stable now, the war is over,” He says, “I’m here to take responsibility.

**Author's Note:**

> Chat me up on twitter @hornet394!


End file.
